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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25059454">left you love notes on their headstones</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothmanfucker666/pseuds/mothmanfucker666'>mothmanfucker666</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Barebacking, Blood Kink, Bloodplay, Bottom C. C. Tinsley, Detective C. C. Tinsley, Established Relationship, M/M, Murder Kink, Serial Killer Ricky Goldsworth, Top Ricky Goldsworth, Unsafe Sex, unsanitary sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:02:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,677</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25059454</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothmanfucker666/pseuds/mothmanfucker666</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>it goes like this. once a year, a person with eyes the same exact shade of brown as tinsley's is found dead with their eyes missing. a man with a deep voice and a faint chicago accent is found with his throat cut all the way down to the vocal cords. a man with the same color and style of hair as tinsley's is found scalped. a woman who is precisely six feet, four inches tall is found decapitated, legs cut off at the knees, all the pieces clean and arranged neatly. the bodies are never disrespected, are always neat and clean and well-dressed. they are always found in the early hours of the morning on the same day of each year.</p><p>and every time ─ before the body is discovered, before it's even prepared ─ tinsley awakes in the middle of the night to a presence in his bedroom that wasn't there when he went to sleep.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ricky Goldsworth/C. C. Tinsley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>117</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>left you love notes on their headstones</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>title from the horror of our love by ludo. find my tinsworth playlist <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3gWrg6uv4QFaDgeW1a53z4?si=-h8cogKBSMGtdK33Vl6KTQ">here</a>. with thanks to raine again for being a terrible influence.</p><p>everything is consensual (um... except the murder?), but i definitely wouldn't call this safe or sane. stay safe, and mind the tags.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For Ricardo Goldsworth and Cecil Tinsley, murder is just an extended form of foreplay.</p><p>Ricky chooses his victims carefully, lovingly. They must have something in them that reminds him of Tinsley, regardless of what that is. The slant of their eyes, the shape of their nose, the witticisms they're prone to spouting; it doesn't matter what. It's part of what makes it so hard to pin his motive as a serial killer, actually; he thinks it would be boring to simply track down tall, brown-eyed, brown-haired white men. It's not challenging enough. Ricky stalks his victims by day in all kinds of places; bars, cafes, libraries, grocery stores. Once he finds someone, he sets them up for a chance encounter, then picks them apart carefully and thoroughly so he can figure out the best way to earn their trust.</p><p>It helps, certainly, that he's devastatingly beautiful.</p><p>The LA Valentine Killer's choice of victims seems to transcend age, gender, race, any other physical characteristics. They never have any connection to each other. The only reason the team assigned to investigating the series of murders can connect them at all is the fact that the Valentine Killer leaves a love letter with each fresh kill.</p><p>─</p><p>It goes like this. Once a year, a person with eyes the same exact shade of brown as Tinsley's is found dead with their eyes missing. A man with a deep voice and a faint Chicago accent  is found with his throat cut all the way down to the vocal cords. A man with the same color and style of hair as Tinsley's is found scalped. A woman who is precisely six feet, four inches tall is found decapitated, legs cut off at the knees, all the pieces clean and arranged neatly. The bodies are never disrespected, are always neat and clean and well-dressed. They are always found in the early hours of the morning on the same day of each year.</p><p>And every time ─ before the body is discovered, before it's even prepared ─ Tinsley awakes in the middle of the night to a presence in his bedroom that wasn't there when he went to sleep.</p><p>─</p><p>"You're gonna love this one," Ricky breathes against Tinsley's ear, tugging the blankets down off of him and straddling the detective's waist.</p><p>Tinsley blinks up at him blearily, then grins, breath catching in his throat at the sight of him. His suit coat is gone somewhere, and the white button-down he's wearing is almost halfway unbuttoned. It's also covered in blood, along with most of his exposed skin. Ricky reaches out to drag his fingertips over Tinsley's jaw, and his hands are tacky with drying blood. Tinsley doesn't seem to mind; in fact, he parts his lips as Ricky traces over them. Ricky smiles sweetly, slipping two sticky fingers into Tinsley's mouth. Tinsley moans softly at the coppery taste on his tongue, and Ricky doesn't even have to ask before he's sucking obediently, eagerly.</p><p>"Good boy," Ricky murmurs, sliding his free hand up under Tinsley's shirt. He leaves sticky red smudges on the other's skin as he does, pushing his hands up along Tinsley's ribs, over old lovebites and bruises that he gently digs his fingertips into.</p><p>Tinsley's mouth is red with blood when Ricky finally drags his fingers out of his mouth, and Ricky smears it over Tinsley's chin a little. "You gonna let me fuck you, Ceece?"</p><p>"Yeah," Tinsley manages, voice low and rough with sleep. He arches up into Ricky's hands, both of which are exploring his chest now. "Fucked myself open before bed. I was restless, I ─ I was thinking of you. 'M still loose."</p><p>"Shit," Ricky hisses, pulling his hands back. He slides off of Tinsley's lap. "Strip for me, baby, hurry up," he says, and Tinsley scrambles to comply. It's one of the only times Ricky ever sees him so obedient, he thinks fondly. For his part, Ricky doesn't strip; he knows Tinsley doesn't want him to. Instead, he just undoes his pants and pushes them down a bit, giving himself just enough space to free his cock from the confines of his briefs. Once Tinsley is nude, Ricky grabs him by the hips and drags him over to the edge of the bed, eliciting a startled laugh from the detective.</p><p>Ricky retrieves the lube from the bedside table and settles between Tinsley's thighs, drizzling lube over his cock to slick it. The lube mixes with the tacky blood and turns a little pink, which makes Tinsley groan while he watches. Smirking, Ricky leans on one hand over Tinsley, using the other one to position the head of his cock at Tinsley's entrance.</p><p>"What do you need, sweetheart?" Ricky prods.</p><p>"You," Tinsley sort of whines, tangling the fingers of one hand in Ricky's hair. "Need your cock, need you inside me, need you to fuck me─" he cuts off with a sharp gasp as Ricky starts to press inside. He's loose, like he'd said, but he's still tight enough that the stretch burns a little. It's a good burn, though; Tinsley doesn't mind pain, as long as Ricky is the one hurting him. Ricky leans down to kiss him once he's inside, biting at Tinsley's lips and licking into his mouth. He tastes blood, and he's uncertain if it's his victim's or Tinsley's own.</p><p>When Tinsley starts to squirm down against Ricky's cock, Ricky takes the hint and starts to fuck him in earnest, not giving him any time to get used to the friction. Tinsley lets out little panting gasps each time he rocks back down against Ricky's cock, and Ricky smooths his hands up and down Tinsley's thighs.</p><p>"More blood," Tinsley says eventually, sounding flustered but determined. "Cut me, I want ─ I want to be covered in it, Ricky, please─"</p><p>Ricky pauses in his thrusting for just a moment to reach down, tugging up his pant leg just enough to reveal the hunting knife he has strapped to his ankle. He unsheaths it and makes up for the brief pause by thrusting into Tinsley particularly hard, eliciting a sharp grunt.</p><p>Ricky leans over his lover, tracing the knife feather-light down the center of his chest. He teases it over Tinsley's navel, over each nipple, down either side of his ribs; he marvels at the way Tinsley whimpers and arches up, practically craving the sensation of being carved up.</p><p>Finally, though, Ricky chooses a spot just below Tinsley's left clavicle, and another one just above his right hip. He makes relatively shallow cuts, cuts that will bleed but will be easily bandaged later, and the moans each cut tear from Tinsley's throat are something Ricky wishes he could swallow whole, keep with him and inside of him forever.</p><p>As it is, he just grins instead, pressing around each cut with his fingers and enjoying the flow of hot, liquid blood over his skin for the second time that night. Ricky changes his angle so he can lean over Tinsley and lick blood away from the cut on his chest, then pulls Tinsley into a kiss, deep and hot and messy. He uses his hands to spread Tinsley's own blood all over his pale body, wrapping one hand around Tinsley's cock to give it a few messy strokes.</p><p>"So good, Ricky, please," Tinsley pants, fingernails digging into Ricky's shoulders. He arches his back a little more, and on the next thrust, he cries out. "There, right there, c'mon, 'm so close─"</p><p>"Me, too," Ricky admits, voice raspy. "Tell me you're mine, Ceece. Tell me you're mine forever, you'll never let anyone else have you like this, this is just for me─"</p><p>"You know it is," Tinsley breathes out. "I'm yours, I'll always be yours, I'm yours now and I'll be yours when I'm dead, please─"</p><p>Ricky's hand closes around Tinsley's cock again, and it only takes a few rough tugs before Tinsley is spilling over his fist with another loud cry. Seeing Tinsley fall apart like this beneath him is all it takes to drag Ricky over the edge, too, and he spills deep inside Tinsley with an almost animalistic growl, hands squeezing Tinsley's thighs with a bruising grip.</p><p>They stay interlocked like that for a minute or two, until their breathing starts to slow down. Then Ricky pulls out, leaning down to kiss Tinsley on the forehead. "Let's get cleaned up, baby," Ricky murmurs. "I gotta go take care of the body, but I'll be home by breakfast."</p><p>"Mm." Tinsley sits up, running a hand through his hair. Ricky's spent cock gives a valiant twitch at the sight of his husband looking utterly debauched, covered in blood and still bleeding. "Mmkay. I'll make waffles in the morning, maybe." Tinsley looks and sounds sleepy, distracted, and Ricky can't help smiling at it. Ricky helps Tinsley to his feet, and their kiss this time is gentle and sweet. Anyone who saw them kiss that way in public would never in a million years guess what the two of them got up to in private, and Ricky was more than happy with that.</p><p>"Happy anniversary, baby," Ricky says, quiet and affectionate.</p><p>Tinsley smiles, kissing Ricky on the cheek. "Happy anniversary, sweetheart."</p><p>─</p><p>On the morning of his sixth wedding anniversary, Tinsley looks down at the mutilated corpse laid out lovingly on the grass in the park and tries not to smile at his gift. The victim is clean and fully dressed, and he knows there will be no sign of sexual assault when the autopsy is performed. The cause of death, he'd guess, was most likely exsanguination; the woman is missing her hands. It likely wasn't a quick death. Unfortunate for her. Tinsley fakes disgust as he turns away from the body.</p><p>"Was there a note?" Tinsley asks the nearest forensic investigator. Someone passes it over, already placed in a clear plastic evidence bag. Tinsley reads it, and bites his lower lip to keep himself from grinning. Then he takes out his phone and sends his husband a single text.</p><p>
  <b>[To: Ricky] You shouldn't have. 🖤</b>
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